Legends
by Hall of the Laughing King
Summary: It was the American authorities who found him, wandering through their Yellow Stone park, a year after Voldemort's body was found. A series of unrelated drabbles.
1. Chapter 1

It was the American authorities who found him, wandering through their Yellow Stone park, a year after Voldemort's body was found. When I came to get him, he smiled t me for a second, and those around him were stunned. They said that he'd only ever walk or sat around lifeless like he did after that spark. I could barely bear to let his got to Saint Mungo's, but I just watched as they took him. By the time I could visit, six days later, they had put him in the incurable ward with my parents. I visited my parents more often after that, when ever I could make time despite my job as professor. After all, no one visited the incurables ward often, so no one could say if I gathered the three of them - Harry included - when ever I went. Only a month went by before I mentioned Hogwarts and my job, but when it did, I cursed myself as his head jerked up for a second when I mentioned it.

I started making plans that day as I left that ward. Next weekend I brought a bottle of Polyjuice Potion, and when I came out, I brought Luna along with me to Hogwarts. The potion wore off soon after we got there, but I let Harry roam the hallways on his own. Not even the seventh-years would try to hurt him, and soon he became one of Hogwart's legends, passed at first from sibling to sibling, and later, from parent to child.

I stayed at Hogwarts, accepting the position of Headmaster from Minerva when she stepped down, and on that first year, my deputy Headmistress Parvarti read one more name off her parchment, never mind that he was fifty. But he came down the aisle like first year, and he looked like one too as Parvarti placed the hat on his head. Minutes later the hat shouted out "Slytherin!".

Parvarti just took the hat from his head before shooing him off to the table. Every seven years since, he's come back. The next time it was Hufflepuff, then Ravenclaw, the Gryphindor, then Slytherin again. Sometimes he attended classes, always seeming that age, and some times he came to sit next to me at the Head table, looking like the nineteen-year old boy I'd brought.

Now, a hundred years since I brought him there, he leaves the castle grounds to be by my side in Saint Mungo's. My breath rattles and I open my eyes to look at him.

"Thank you Harry," I murmur, to the silent watcher, and he smiles at me, looking for all the world like a four-year old child. When I wake up in a portrait, I'm well aware of the rules, but I see him curled on an arm-chair in Scorpius Draco Malfoy's Office, I smile. He wakes up and I greet him silently like I had all these years, and I slip out of my portrait to run and do things I had been too old to do when I died, and he flew along side me, no longer needing a broom.

I also contemplate . . . never once have I seen him older than nineteen. But then I just look at him and stop. He's Harry, and He's Hogwarts. Enough said. I watch as he is given presents, which he wears long after their givers are dead, long after most would even think possible. When my portrait's magic fades, I hear him for the first time in millenia, and I want to reach out.

"_I'll be back_," I say before I'm gone.

* * *

_Eleven Years Later  
Hogwarts Express_

"Hello? Have you seen my- Trevor!"

_That's a really old fashioned name, _the boy writes on a slip of paper.

"Yeah, my Grandmum picked it out. She even named me after this old headmaster whose portrait went around my birth," the first boy says, sitting down across from the second. "So what's your name?"

_I'm Harry. Or Hogwarts._

"Huh? Wait, but didn't you disappear eleven years ago?"

_Yup._

"What's that mean?" the first boy asks blankly.

_Correct._

"Oh! Sorry," the first boy said sheepishly.

_It's fine Neville._

"How do you know my name?" the first boy asked.

_I've been waiting for you. I'm getting Gryffindor this time, I don't care where the barmy hat wants me._

"Huh?"

_Inside joke._

* * *

_I wrote this in a fit of random inspiration. Don't own Harry Potter._


	2. Chapter 2

I smile as I adjust my green robes, my eyes catching Godric's as her enters and I smile at him in his dark red robes, his leaf green eyes sparkling.

"You ready?" he asks, and I turn, wrapping my arms around my little brother and burying my nose into his curly black hair.

"Yep!" I exclaim, tugging on my robes once more before I exited the mirrored room with him in his red robes, and me in my faded green. Rowena joined us, matching me step for step as she read, an apple in one hand, a book in the other, her red hair braided back neatly.

"Hello Salazar!" Helga greeted me cheerfully over Rowena's shoulder, her unbound black hair bouncing wildly as her blue eyes sparkled at me. We all stop in front of the giant oak doors, and Rowena sighs, tucking her book away as she finishes the apple before banishing the core.

"Ready to beat those snobby Chernis siblings?" I ask my friends and they laugh at me the message spoken by the twinkle and sparking of their wands as they brought them up.

"Five, four, three, two, one!" our wands swing and the great door booms open. A wind blows a couple of leafs by as three people clap.

"Nice job idiots!" a cheerful voice rings out, and I have to hold Godric back as he tries to rush a the three of them. i sigh, rubbing my forehead. _You know you're having a bad day when the only one who appreciates your work is you enemy._

* * *

I receive a portrait of us a week later, and grandly hang it in my Room of Requirement.

* * *

It isn't till I'm long dead that I finally realise what terrible choices of color that we'd made as I stare at my friends. It doesn't matter much though, no one ever notices the four seemingly colour-blind wizards, each wearing robes that clashed with their appearance. It's not like they were important or anything. They're just a small, black-haired kid with green eyes in dark red robes, a blonde kid next to him in apple green robes, and red-haired girl next to him, her attention focused more on her book as she hugged at the waist of her blue dress, and a black-haired girl next to her in an amber dress. Off to the side were three kids their age, a nice even seventeen, a black-haired girl, a bright orange haired boy, and a brown-haired boy, all dressed in the same wispy, faded greys.

But what do the founders and their rivals matter? They only made the two most influential wizarding schools in the world.


	3. Chapter 3

**WARNING! ****_attempted suicide_**

I step out of the shadows, a moment after the door clicks, walking slowly over to the black haired man, the sobs that I had been suppressing finally sounded quietly in the small chamber as I traced the line of his cheek bones, my vision covered in tears that flowed every time I binked.

"Godric," I finally sobbed, collapsing to my knees as I clutched the the front of his dark red robes - bigger versions of the robes we had worn to open the school. "Damn it, you shouldn't have saved me! I left!"

My breath hitches as I think of the fight we'd had when I left. "I left for dark magic! You should have - I should have - Damn it! Godric, you're the younger one! I promised Mum I'd protect you and now look!"

I raise my fist and slam it onto the round next to me with another sob.

"You should-" my voice cracks and I wipe my face angrily with my sleeve. "YOU SHOULD HATE ME! I SHOULD HAVE BEEN THE ONE TO DIE, YOU NIT-WIT!"

"You should hate me," I whisper brokenly into the cold softness of his body. "I used dark magic, and I should - I should die."

The castle rumbles around me suddenly at this thought, not liking it at all, but I ignore it.

"I should die," I whisper to myself, slowly sitting up as an idea occurs to me, making more and more sence, even as the castle started pulling everyone it could towards the room in alarm, but I ignore that as I set up a ward that should only end when I die, quick though it was before I pull out the dagger Godric had forged for me after I forged his sword.

_It'll work fine for this. Poetic justice really._ I ignore the loud knocking on the door and the voices calling as I take the knife in left hand, putting a wandless numbing spell on my right wrist before I slice, _hard_. I cast the spell on my neck and slice quickly, hoping, trying, wishing, _needing_, to get past the spells I had cast as soon as I had left the castle, mad with my little brother, convinced I was right, unheeding of the taste of the compulsion potion in my mouth, following the orders mindlessly, lost in my rage before suddenly it was my _brother_ in front of me and I was commanded to kill him but I couldn't _kill_ him he's my _brother_ and I can't hurt him and he's leaping in front of me as a sword comes down and the curse leaving his lips even as he falls onto me making me collapse and stare blankly at the sky as blood seeps through my clothes and my feelings come back to me and I scream and- and - and- an-

_**Darkness. That's good, I can't go to the light. I don't deserve to be with Godric.**_

* * *

I gasp at the sight of the pool of blood spreading around the body lying there brokenly on the marble, blood saturating the green robes and the blonde hair, turning them the same crimson color as the robes of the body lying in the cold niche beside him, leaving the amber-gold eyes staring hazily at the ceiling the only thing familiar of the man. My stride doesn't break and I kneel in the pool of blood -_ Salazar's heart's blood, we always joked that her would be the one to kill himself if one of us died, and when he left, we knew it -_ as I frantically find the gaping wound across the neck and start healing it, almost feeling as if it was too late, but knowing, bone deep, it couldn't be.

_And he was supposed to have self-preservation. Fat lot of good that did._

I'm aware of the yellow robes by my side that hold the head up so I can finally do what makes me so good at healing, I wave my hand over my throat, feeling everything about it before I wave my hand over the area I'm trying to heal shaping it to be the same - _the exact same, so you finally get that permanent woman's voice - _before turning to the wrist that tanned and scarred hands held out, that was cut so deep, I know I could have seen the bone if I'd washed it, as I silently run my hand over my wrist and transfigured the wrist to match. I can feel the tears dripping down my face as I absently pull a blood replenishing potion - given to me by vampires - out and carefully thread it down into Salazar's stomach before my hands drop and I lean over the head in my lap as my body starts to shake, by braid swinging forwards and trailing through the blood on the floor. Footsteps come cautiously into the room, and suddenly I left my self fall. Helga falls against me and the last thing I know is the sound of gentle cleaning spells.

* * *

_The lion fell first, leaving the raven to catch the snake, and the badger to soften his fall. None would be surprised, if there was a tiger, it's raven and it's human. They had been in it together after all._


	4. Chapter 4

There is really no such thing as pure Slytherin, it's impossible.

The Slytherin house is the weakest, for without knowledge, resources, or the bravery to use them, what is cunning?

The Ravenclaw will know what they are doing, when a Slytherin might not.

The Hufflepuff's friends would save them, as the Slytherin's allies watched.

The Gryffindor would tickle the sleeping dragon and kill it, while the Slytherin would just avoid it.

So the founders watch, and each year laugh at the Hat's song. There is loyalty, yes, bravery, of course, and knowledge, how could we be a school without it.

But the songs are all wrong, you stupid hat, it's not Helga who takes the rest.

After all, what child doesn't have ambition?

So whenever they hear the sorting hat's song, the founders exchange glances and laugh.

Godric claims bravery.

Helga claims loyalty.

Rowena claims knowledge.

And Salazar says, I'll take the lot, and teach them all the same.


End file.
